"You ever notice how life is like a badly written play?" Shaun asked, leaning back in his chair, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "We all like to think we're the protagonists, the heroes, the ones who matter. But in every story—every single one—there's at least one person whose entire purpose is...well, to just exist. Background noise. They're there to fill the scene, maybe pass a line or two, but never enough to steal the spotlight. You know the type. The guy you only call when you need a ride or someone to cover your shift. The kind of person whose absence you'd notice eventually. Maybe."
He chuckled, tapping his fingers on the table, eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something darker.
"And here's the real kicker: we all have one of those people in our lives. Maybe it's that classmate you always borrowed notes from. Or the coworker who's invited to the party but never actually in any photos. They're like the Wi-Fi at a coffee shop—you don't think about it until it's gone. Then suddenly, you're very aware of how much you depended on it."
Shaun smirked, shaking his head.
"But it gets worse," he continued, leaning forward now, as if sharing some profound cosmic joke. "See, the real joke? You might be that person for someone else. Just a name in their contacts, sitting there until it's time to send a 'Hey, can you help me move?' text. Funny, right? Tragic, but funny."
He paused, gaze distant, as though lost in a thought too deep to articulate. Then, a sharp exhale.
"And here's the thing—it's not even malicious. It's not like anyone wakes up thinking, 'Ah, today I shall treat Bob like a disposable pawn.' It's just...how we're wired. We're selfish creatures, always chasing the next thing that makes us feel important. We like to tell ourselves that everyone plays a role in our story, but the truth? Most people are just extras. Set dressing. Their whole purpose is to hold us up while we chase whatever dream we're clinging to that week."
He grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"And you know what's really messed up? Even when we do remember these people, it's not because we care. It's more like, 'Oh yeah, I should probably check on him before he stops answering my calls.' It's not about losing the person—it's about losing the convenience." Shaun snorted. "They're not friends. They're...functions."
He spread his hands wide, as if presenting some grand, undeniable truth.
"So what does that say about us, huh? Are we the heroes? Or just slightly more important extras in a universe that doesn't care? Think about it. You're the star of your life, sure. But to someone else? You're the guy who held the elevator once. The voice on the other end of a customer service call. And in the grand scheme of things?"
Shaun laughed, the sound hollow, echoing with something deeper.
"None of it matters. We spend our lives chasing meaning, but maybe the truth is...there isn't any. Maybe we're all just here, stumbling through our roles, hoping someone notices. Or not. Doesn't really make a difference."
A pause, followed by a casual shrug.
"Anyway, that's my TED Talk. Thanks for coming. Tip your waiters. And maybe—just maybe—next time you call someone only because you need a favor, throw in a 'How's life?' first. Not because it matters, but because it'll make you feel better. And in this absurd little comedy we call existence, that's about the best we can hope for hahahaha."
The bartender, barely glancing up from wiping down the counter, shrugged when someone sitting a few stools away asked, "What's his deal?" He gestured vaguely toward Shaun and said, "Leave the guy be. Just got laid off today. Long time at that company too."
The man nodded knowingly, sympathy flickering across his face. "Tough break. I've been there. Years of loyalty wiped out by 'restructuring.'" He motioned to the bartender. "Send him a drink. On me."
He raised his glass in mock celebration, eyes glinting with dry amusement.
By the time Shaun stumbled out of the bar, thoroughly drunk, he swayed on unsteady feet, tipping his head back to gaze at the sky. "Farewell, brother," he slurred to the bartender with a half-hearted wave. "I'll see ya again."
"You sure you're good to get home?" the bartender called after him. "You can crash here if you want."
"Nah, it's fine. I'll call someone," Shaun replied, already fumbling for his phone. But instead of making the call, he climbed into his car. "Who cares if I live or die," he muttered, gunning the engine. "Not like I've got a purpose left. Oh wait, tomorrow's the big match. Gotta watch that." He smirked at his own logic and merged onto the highway.
He never made it home. The accident was quick and brutal. No one else was hurt, but Shaun didn't survive
Shaun awoke groggily, eyes fluttering open to an unfamiliar ceiling. "I knew things were rough, but wow, did they really stick me in some haunted manor?" His voice echoed in the dim, cavernous room. "This can't be a hospital. Did I actually survive?"
He flexed his fingers, and that's when the shock hit. His hands were small—too small. Panicked, he shot upright and stumbled toward a mirror across the room. His reflection wasn't his own. His heart raced, pounding in his chest as reality slowly sank in. He pressed a hand to his face, then his chest, trembling.
"This...this isn't me. What the fuXXk?" he collapsed
around after 2 month
"You know," Shaun muttered, kicking a stray pebble across the dirt path, "I wasn't exactly asking to be one of those people I talked about. You know, the extras. The ones who barely matter. I was just...thinking. Like humans do. But hey, life—or whatever this is—sure has a sense of humor, doesn't it?"
He stopped, looking down at his too-small hands, clenching them into fists as if testing their strength.
"Here I am. Ten years old. Reincarnated as...well, as someone who doesn't even make the extras list. At least the people I mentioned before—the ones nobody cared about? At least they were people. They had names, jobs, families. Me? I'm not even that. Just... a placeholder. A nobody in a world that wouldn't even bother remembering me if I disappeared tomorrow."
Shaun kicked the pebble again, harder this time, watching it skitter off into the distance.
"And the irony?" he chuckled bitterly. "It all started after I gave that speech on existence. Went home drunk, thinking, What's the worst that could happen? Lost my job. Had nothing left. Spent years breaking my back for people who didn't even notice. Dad? Only saw me when something went wrong. 'Shaun, you left the light on.' 'Shaun, why is the sink still dripping?' Never once a 'Thanks' or a 'Good job.' Mom? She cared in that way moms do. But she was too busy running around, keeping everything together, to really notice me. And my siblings? Oh, they had their roles. Golden Boy older brother, perfect little princess younger sister. Me? I was the glue. Invisible, but necessary. Except no one remembers the glue when the picture holds."
He paused, a faraway look in his eyes.
"And then there was her. The one person I thought might get it. Thought maybe she saw me. Turns out, she didn't. Not really. I was just...convenient. The reliable guy. The one you keep around until someone better shows up. When she left, it wasn't even dramatic. Just...'Thanks for everything.' Like I was a helpful customer service rep."
Shaun's fists unclenched, and he let out a slow breath.
"So yeah, that night, none of it mattered anymore. I drove home drunk. Tired. Fed up. Thinking about how I'd given everything—everything—to people who'd forget me the second I was gone. I hit a truck or a tree or...I don't know. Whatever it was, it ended me. Just like that."
He looked around at the quiet, unfamiliar world around him, eyes narrowing.
"And now? Now I'm a ten-year-old kid in a world that makes even less sense. No family. No job. No one. Just me. Stuck here, trying to figure out if there's a point to any of this. Spoiler alert: probably not."
He smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You know what's funny? Even here, I'm still the invisible guy. The one nobody cares about. It's like the universe really wanted to drive the point home: Hey, Shaun, you're not important. Never were, never will be." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Thanks, universe. Really got the memo now."
Shaun sat down on a nearby rock, staring at the sky.
"Guess this is my life now. A kid with no past and probably no future. But hey, at least I don't have to worry about getting fired again, right?" He laughed, the sound echoing in the empty air around him.
"To being ten," he said, raising an imaginary glass. "And to still being completely, utterly insignificant."
But even in this new life, some habits die hard. He smirked at the thought. Always narrating, always monologuing. I guess when you spend your whole life with no one to talk to, you end up talking to yourself. Funny how that works. It's not like I had real friends. Just colleagues, acquaintances. Everyone too busy being the center of their own universe. So yeah, this habit stuck around. Helps me think. Helps me... cope
The old servant's raspy voice broke the silence. "Young master, I finally found you! What are you doing in such a place? Do you know how worried everyone was?" He wheezed, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath after what looked like a marathon sprint across the estate.
Shaun, lounging on a rock near a half-dead flowerbed, raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on, old man. I'm literally in our garden. It's not like I packed a bag and ran off to join a circus, did I?"
The servant, still panting, shook his head. "But, master... you didn't inform us," he managed between gasps, clutching at his chest like he was one breath away from seeing the other side.
"Right, right. My bad. Next time I'll leave a detailed itinerary," Shaun sighed, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Anyway, take a breath first. You look like you're about to keel over."
The old man nodded gratefully, gulping air like it was a rare commodity.
Shaun smirked, watching him recover. This guy's dedication is almost endearing. Almost.
As they started walking back to the mansion, Shaun's mind drifted. Funny thing: the kid I reincarnated into? He's also named Shaun. Weird coincidence, huh? Or maybe not. Maybe the universe thought it'd be hilarious. Honestly, I'm not mad. Makes things easier. I mean, imagine suddenly being called something ridiculous like Alaric or Thaddeus. Nope. Hard pass.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, glancing at the sky. Still, it's creepy. Feels like this whole thing was set up for me to stumble into. But hey, at least I don't have to deal with an identity crisis on top of everything else. Small mercies.
"So, what's the deal with this Shaun kid?" you ask. Oh, let me tell you. Poor noble family. Not exactly rolling in the gold coins. The family's land? Yeah, technically theirs, but in reality? Controlled by the crown. The royals decide everything—who farms it, who benefits from it. Spoiler alert: not us all we get is chump change and this nobel title.
Dad? Classic story. Ran off to become a knight, promising he'd return one day as a big name, making everything better. Except he never did. No letters. No messages. Nada. It's like he just...forgot we existed. Or maybe he liked the whole freedom from responsibility thing. Can't blame him, really.
Mom? She stuck around for a bit. Did her best. But this place? It breaks people. She finally cracked and went back to her father's house. From what I've pieced together—mostly from gossip and memory of og shaun—she's getting remarried. Good for her, I guess. The original Shaun didn't blame her, and honestly? Neither do I. People do what they have to survive. I get it.
And me? Alone? I'm fine with that. Always have been. Less drama, fewer expectations. Solitude's kind of my thing, anyway. No strings. No one to let you down. Just...quiet. Peaceful, really.
Now, here's where it gets fun. Ready? Drumroll, please. This world? Yup. You guessed it. Classic isekai fantasy. Swords, magic, knights, all that jazz. Could it get more cliché? I mean, really. It's like the universe hit the randomizer button and landed on the most overdone trope imaginable. And me? Not even a cool protagonist or a misunderstood villain. Nope. I'm a mob character. A literal nobody. Background filler. It's insulting, really.
And no, my self-esteem isn't that low. I'm just calling it like it is. Facts are facts, right?
"Oh, but Shaun," you ask, "how do you know this is a novel world you don't read?" Good question. Simple answer: I don't. Not firsthand, anyway. But guess what? The original Shaun—the one before me? He was a real transmigrator. Came here as a baby, memories intact, and immediately realized he was inside some novel he'd read. He even wrote a whole book about it. Detailed everything—what happens, how it happens, why it happens.
Lucky for me, I've got bits and pieces of those memories. Enough to know he wasn't making it up. Enough to know I'm stuck in a story I don't care about, playing a role that doesn't even matter. Why I'm here instead of him? Hell if I know. Maybe the universe glitched. Maybe it just wanted a laugh.
"Master Shaun," the old servant interrupted his thoughts, motioning toward the mansion's gates. They had arrived. "Shall we?"
Shaun sighed, shrugging. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get go"